


darling, your looks can kill

by Anonymous



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Casual Sex, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Tail Sex, Tails As Erogenous Zones, friends with benefits but they're not friends, wow that sure is a tag i had to make
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: it’s touch for the sake of touch.
Relationships: Kuja (Final Fantasy IX)/Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII)
Kudos: 24
Collections: Fanfic Anonymous





	darling, your looks can kill

**Author's Note:**

> im not even finished ffix or the original ffvii but i just really had to write this idea. i wrote this in a single sitting, let's GO

Theirs is an arrangement born out of boredom. It’s not to say they liked each other in any capacity. It’s mutually beneficial; it’s stress relief, simply. It’s touch for the sake of touch. There’s no form of attachment.

It comes as no surprise to Kuja that he finds himself in such a situation, body laid bare and bent over Sephiroth’s clothed lap, hips raised high in the air. If not for the fact he _liked it_ , it would be humiliating. Nonetheless, he keeps his tail wrapped loosely around his hips, as if he could possibly hide it while being so exposed. Of course, perceptive as ever, Sephiroth lands a quick hit to his rear, near the back of his thighs. The strike has enough force to send Kuja reeling, his hips rocking backwards to chase the contact — as he does, his tail lashes out instinctively, and Sephiroth grabs it at the base. 

The resulting moan that the simple touch draws from Kuja almost surprises Sephiroth. _Almost._

“Ever the performer still, I see.” His words are punctuated by leather-clad fingers massaging the base of Kuja’s tail, and yet another moan.

It’s a shame, really, that his gloves get in the way. Sephiroth pulls away for a moment, watching the man in his lap squirm while he slides his gloves off, immediately returning to caress along soft, snowy fur. Sated, Kuja lets out a satisfied sigh.

“So sensitive… I wonder if you can come just from being touched here,” Sephiroth purrs, fingers stroking, touch feather-light, along the length of Kuja’s tail. It draws a whine from his lips as he buries his face in Sephiroth’s lap, the leather of his pants nearly uncomfortable against his cheek as his back arches. He’s trembling, he realizes, but he’s already too far gone to really care about dignity. 

Kuja lets out a soft, drawn-out _mmm_ , the tip of his tail quivering under the calculated touch.

“Feels good-” he mewls pathetically, “ _don’t stop_.”

It’s almost pitiful, how easily he’s been reduced to his base desires. His fingers flex, finding purchase as slender, graceful fingers curl into the material of Sephiroth’s coat that’s been laid out on the ground beneath them. With his cheek pressed against Sephiroth’s thigh, Kuja can’t quite see Sephiroth, but that in itself gives him a heady rush of arousal. It’s easier this way to get lost in the feeling of being touched without a face to associate with it.

“You’re quite a pleasant picture like this,” Sephiroth breathes against the back of Kuja’s neck as he leans in while his fingers move from base to tip again, with more intent this time. He twists his fingers as he reaches outward, earning another sweet moan.

“Like what?” Kuja’s voice is soft, almost absent, thoughts so pleasantly scrambled that it’s almost hard to speak coherently.

“You’re pretty when you’re so needy,” he croons back, voice low and breathy, like the sight before him is affecting him — and it _is,_ judging by the tent in his pants. “You’re being so good for me, _aren’t you?_ ”

All it takes to send Kuja from mere sensation to something heightened, _raw_ , is a few honeyed words, it seems. It’s thrilling, really, to have his composure torn away so easily, and to so readily give into it.

Sex is many things to Kuja, but it’s never genuine.

Even now, despite the fact that his trysts with Sephiroth aren’t to get ahead, or any other number of equally performative reasons to take someone to bed, there’s no true connection. It’s simply an affair of convenience. There’s still a sense of detachment, even in the submissive headspace he’s slipped into for the time being.

Practically drooling as Sephiroth turns his attention to the base of his tail again, Kuja cries out wordlessly. Pleasure curls in his gut, the sensation rising like plumes of smoke. He feels boneless, sinking into Sephiroth’s lap as if it’s anchoring him in place, as if he’d float away without being held down. He’s only dimly aware of his heavy, laboured breaths, punctuated by shameless moans.

“Such pretty sounds you make,” Sephiroth whispers, breath hot on Kuja’s skin. “Is this truly all it takes you make you sing my praises?”

Sephiroth’s other hand slides up from Kuja’s hip, coasting along his spine before pushing him down against the ground by the neck. He doesn’t apply enough pressure to restrict his airflow, just enough to hold him down.

 _Throwing his weight around, is he?_ Kuja’s almost amused by the needless display of dominance; or he would be, if he had the presence of mind to be — as it stands, the hand on the base of his tail is rather merciless, nearly overwhelming.

“Maybe I should put a collar around that pretty neck of yours next time,” Sephiroth muses, his tone detached, despite the sickly sweet words of praise he speaks, “you’d make a good pet, wouldn’t you?”

Kuja nods emphatically against his thigh, although he barely processed the words spoken to him. He’s _close,_ hips twisting upward into Sephiroth’s relentless touch as his back arches, taut like a bowstring. Just a little more and he’d-

His orgasm comes like a thunderclap. He comes with a whine and goes limp, barely able to hold himself up. Sephiroth doesn’t stop his ministrations until Kuja starts to twitch and mewl in overstimulation, and then stalls a moment longer before he pulls away entirely.

“How easy it is to get you writhing beneath me.” Sephiroth’s tone is amused.

“Shut up,” Kuja pants as he rolls over and off his lap, visibly wrecked. His hair is disheveled, and carefully applied makeup tracks down his cheeks.

“Is it truly that pleasurable?”

“I suppose you’ll never know, hmm?” Kuja fires back, regaining his wit.

“I suppose.”

Kuja smiles, lopsided and half-hearted, entirely insincere, and picks himself up onto yet-trembling legs. There’s no warm send-off after they’ve had their fill, much less any actual intimacy. He fetches his clothing, hastily left in a pile nearby, and turns to leave without so much as a wave goodbye.


End file.
